Mockingjay: How it should have ended
by Holy Brother
Summary: Alternate ending to the final book of the Hunger Games series, Mockingjay.
1. Introduction

Notes and disclaimers:

Mockingjay is the third book in the Hunger Games series by Suzanne Collins. The series is absolutely fantastic. You should go buy a copy right now if you have not yet done so. Also, Suzanne Collins owns all the characters and concepts in her series and this alternate ending is meant to be a form of fan fiction only.

Many of my friends felt that the end of the third book was rushed, and when I read it, I agreed with them. I felt like several details could have been tweaked just a bit and created a more satisfying ending. The result is this document.

Obviously, an alternate ending to a series of books will have some spoilers for those that have not read the series. I highly recommend you read the Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mockingjay prior to reading this alternate ending.

Finally, because the split in my work and the original occurs near the end of Chapter 24 in Mockingjay, I have included in _italics_ the portion of the chapter that is unchanged. Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 24

**24**

_A chill runs through me. Am I really that cold and calculating? Gale didn't say, "Katniss will pick whoever it will break her heart to give up," or even "whoever she can't live without." Those would have implied I was motivated by a kind of passion. But my best friend predicts I will choose the person who I think I "can't survive without." There's not the least indication that love, or desire, or even compatibility will sway me. I'll just conduct an unfeeling assessment of what my potential mates can offer me. As if in the end, it will be the question of whether a baker or a hunter will extend my longevity the most. It's a horrible thing for Gale to say, for Peeta not to refute. Especially when every emotion I have has been taken and exploited by the Capitol or the rebels. At the moment, the choice would be simple. I can survive just fine without either of them._

_In the morning, I have no time or energy to nurse wounded feelings. During a predawn breakfast of liver pate and fig cookies, we gather around Tigris's television for one of Beetee's break-ins. There's been a new development in the war. Apparently inspired by the black wave, some enterprising rebel commander came up with the idea of confiscating people's abandoned automobiles and sending them unmanned down the streets. The cares don't trigger every pod, but they certainly get the majority. At around four in the morning, the rebels began carving three separate paths – simply referred to as the A, B, and C lines – to the Capitol's heart. As a result, they've secured block after block with very few casualties._

_"This can't last," says Gale. "In fact I'm surprised they've kept it going so long. The Capitol will adjust by deactivating specific pods and then manually triggering them when their targets come in range." Almost within minutes of his prediction, we see this very thing happen on-screen. A squad sends a car down a block, setting off four pods. All seems well. Three scouts follow and make it safely to the end of the street. But when a group of twenty rebel soldiers follow them, they're blown to bits by a row of potted rosebushes in front of a flower shop._

_"I bet it's killing Plutarch not to be in the control room on this one," says Peeta._

_Beetee gives the broadcast back to the Capitol, where a grim-faced reporter announces the blocks that civilians are to evacuate. Between her update and the previous story, I am able to mark my paper map to show the relative positions of the opposing armies._

_I hear scuffling out on the street, move to the windows, and peek out a crack in the shutters. In the early morning light, I see a bizarre spectacle. Refugees from the now occupied blocks are streaming toward the Capitol's center. The most panicked are wearing nothing but nightgowns and slippers, while the more prepared are heavily bundled in layers of clothes. They carry everything from lapdogs to jewelry boxes to potted plants. One man in a fluffy robe holds only an overripe banana. Confused, sleepy children stumble along after their parents, most either too stunned or too baffled to cry. Bits of them flash by my line of vision. A pair of wide brown eyes. An arm clutching a favorite doll. A pair of bare feet, bluish in the cold, catching on the uneven paving stones of the alley. Seeing them reminds me of the children of 12 who died fleeing the firebombs. I leave the window._

_Tigris offers to be our spy for the day since she's the only one of us without a bounty on her head. After securing us downstairs, she goes out into the Capitol to pick up any helpful information._

_Down in the cellar I pace back and forth, driving the others crazy. Something tells me that not taking advantage of the flood of refugees is a mistake. What better cover could we have? On the other hand, every displaced person milling about on the streets means another pair of eyes looking for the five rebels on the loose. Then again, what do we gain by staying here? All we're really doing is depleting our small cache of food and waiting for… what? The rebels to take the Capitol? It could be weeks before that happens, and I'm not so sure what I'd do if they did. Not run out and greet them. Coin would have me whisked back to 13 before I could say "nightlock, nightlock, nightlock." I did not come all this way, and lose all those people to turn myself over to that woman. I kill Snow. Besides, there would be an awful lot of things I couldn't easily explain about the last few days. Several of which, if they came to light, would probably blow my deal for the victors' immunity right out of the water. And forget about me, I've got a feeling some of the others are going to need it. Like Peeta. Who, no matter how you spin it, can be seen on tape tossing Mitchell into that net pod. I can imagine what Coin's war tribunal will do with that._

_By late afternoon, we're beginning to get uneasy about Tigriss's long absence. Talk turns to the possibilities that she has been apprehended and arrested, turned us in voluntarily, or simply been injured in the wave of refugees.. But around six o'clock we hear her return. There's some shuffling around upstairs, then she opens the panel. The wonderful smell of frying meat fills the air. Tigris has prepared us a hash of chopped ham and potatoes. It's the first hot food we've had in days, and as I wait for her to fill my plate, I'm in danger of actually drooling._

_As I chew, I try to pay attention to Tigris telling us how she acquired it, but the main thing I absorb is that fur underwear is a valuable trading item at the moment. Especially for people who left their homes underdressed. Many are still out on the street, trying to find shelter for the night. Those who live in the choice apartments of the inner city have not flung open their doors to house the displaced. On the contrary, most of them bolted their locks, drew their shutters, and pretended to be out. Now the City Circle's packed with refugees, and the Peacekeepers are going door to door, breaking into places if they have to, to assign houseguests._

_On the television, we watch a terse Head Peacekeeper lay out specific rules regarding how many people per square foot each resident will be expected to take in. He reminds the citizens of the Capitol that temperatures will drop well below freezing tonight and warns them that the president expects them to be not only willing but enthusiastic hosts in this time of crisis. Then they show some very staged-looking shots of concerned citizens welcoming grateful refugees into their homes. The Head Peacekeeper says the president himself has ordered part of his mansion readied to receive citizens tomorrow. He adds that shopkeepers should also be prepared to lend their floor space if requested._

_"Tigris, that could be you," says Peeta. I realize he's right. That even this narrow hallway of a shop could be appropriated as the numbers swell. Then we'll be truly trapped in the cellar, in constant danger of discovery. How many days do we have? One? Maybe two?_

_The Head Peacekeeper comes back with more instructions for the population. It seems that this evening there was an unfortunate incident where a crowd beat to death a young man who resembled Peeta. Henceforth, all rebel sightings are to be reported immediately to authorities, who will deal with the identification and arrest of the suspect. They show a photo of the victim. Apart from some obviously bleached curls, he looks about as much like Peeta as I do._

_"People have gone wild," Cressida murmurs._

_We watch a brief rebel update in which we learn that several more blocks have been taken today. I make note of the intersections on my map and study it. "Line C is only four blocks from here," I announce. Somehow that fills me with more anxiety than the idea of Peacekeepers looking for housing. I become very helpful. "Let me wash the dishes."_

_"I'll give you a hand." Gale collects the plates._

_I feel Peeta's eyes follow us out of the room. In the cramped kitchen at the back of Tigris's shop, I fill the sink with hot water and suds. "Do you think it's true?" I ask. "That Snow will let refugees into the mansion?"_

_"I think he has to now, at least for the cameras," says Gale._

_"I'm leaving in the morning," I say._

_"I'm going with you," Gale says. "What should we do with the others?"_

_"Pollux and Cressida could be useful. They're good guides," I say. Pollux and Cressida aren't actually the problem. "But Peeta's too…"_

_"Unpredictable," finishes Gale. "Do you think he'd still let us leave him behind?"_

_"We can make the argument that he'll endanger us," I say. "He might stay here, if we're convincing."_

_Peeta's fairly rational about our suggestion. He readily agrees that his company could put the other four of us at risk. I'm thinking this may all work out, that he can just sit out the war in Tigris's cellar, when he announces he's going out on his own._

_"To do what?" asks Cressida._

_"I'm not sure exactly. The one thing that I might still be useful at is causing a diversion. You saw what happened to that man who looked like me," he says._

_"What if you… lose control?" I say._

_"You mean… go mutt? Well if I fell that coming on, I'll try to get back here," he assures me._

_"And if Snow gets you again?" asks Gale. "You don't even have a gun."_

_"I'll just have to take my chances," says Peeta. "Like the rest of you." The two exchange a long look, and then Gale reaches into his breast pocket. He places his nightlock tablet in Peeta's hand. Peeta lets it lie on his open palm, neither rejecting nor accepting it. "What about you?"_

_"Don't worry. Beetee showed me how to detonate my explosive arrows by hand. If that fails, I've got my knife. And I'll have Katniss," says Gale with a smile. "She won't give them the satisfaction of taking me alive."_

_The thought of Peacekeepers dragging Gale away starts the tune playing in my head again…_

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree_

_"Take it, Peeta," I say in a strained voice. I reach out and close his fingers over the pill. "No one will be there to help you."_

_We spend a fitful night, woken by one another's nightmares, minds buzzing with the next day's plans. I'm relieved when five o'clock rolls around and we can begin whatever this day holds for us. We eat a mishmash of our remaining food – canned peaches, crackers, and snails – leaving one can of salmon for Tigris as meager thanks for all she's done. The gesture seems to touch her in some way. Her face contorts in an odd expression and she flies into action. She spends the next hour remaking the five of us. She redresses us so regular clothes hide our uniforms before we even don our coats and cloaks. Covers our military boots with some sort of furry slippers. Secures our wigs with pins. Cleans off the garish remains of the paint we so hastily applied to our faces and makes us up again. Drapes our outerwear to conceal our weapons. Then gives us handbags and bundles of knickknacks to carry. In the end, we look exactly like the refugees fleeing the rebels._

_"Never underestimate the power of a brilliant stylist," says Peeta. It's hard to tell, but I think Tigris might actually blush under her stripes._

_There are no helpful updates on the television, but the alley seems as thick with refugees as the previous morning. Our plan is to slip into the crowd in three groups. First Cressida and Pollux, who will act as guides while keeping a safe lead on us. Then Gale and myself, who intend to position ourselves among the refugees assigned to the mansion today. Then Peeta, who will trail behind us, ready to create a disturbance as needed._

_Tigris watches through the shutters for the right moment, unbolts the door, and nods to Cressida and Pollux. "Take care," Cressida says, and they are gone._

_We'll be following in a minute. I get out the key , unlock Peeta's cuffs, and stuff them in my pocket. He rubs his wrists. Flexes them. I feel a kind of desperation rising up in me. It's like I'm back in the Quarter Quell, with Beetee giving Johanna and me that coil of wire._

_"Listen," I say. "Don't do anything foolish."_

_"No. It's last-resort stuff. Completely," he says._

_I wrap my arms around his neck, feel his arms hesitate before they embrace me. Not as steady as they once were, but still warm and strong. A thousand moments surge through me. All the times these arms were my only refuge from the world. Perhaps not fully appreciated then, but so sweet in my memory, and now gone forever. "All right, then." I release him._

_"It's time," says Tigris. I kiss her cheek, fasten my red hooded cloak, pull my scarf up over my nose, and follow Gale out into the frigid air._

_Sharp, icy snowflakes bite my exposed skin. The rising sun's trying to break through the gloom without much success. There's enough light to see the bundled forms closest to you and little more. Perfect conditions, really, except that I can't locate Cressida and Pollux. Gale and I drop our heads and shuffle along with the refugees. I can hear what I missed peeking through the shutters yesterday. Crying, moaning, labored breathing. And, not too far away, gunfire._

_"Where are we going, Uncle?" a shivering little boy asks a man weighed down with a small safe._

_"To the president's mansion. They'll assign us a new place to live," puffs the man._

_We turn off the alley and spill out onto one of the main avenues. "Stay to the right!" a voice orders, and I see the Peacekeepers interspersed throughout the crowd, directing the flow of human traffic. Scared faces peer out of the plate-glass windows of the shops, which are already becoming overrun with refugees. At this rate, Tigris may have new houseguests by lunch. It was good for everybody that we got out when we did._

_It's brighter now, even with the snow picking up. I catch sight of Cressida and Pollux about thirty yards ahead of us, plodding along with the crowd. I crane my head around to see if I can locate Peeta. I can't but I've caught the eye of an inquisitive-looking little girl in a lemon yellow coat. I nudge Gale and slow my pace ever so slightly, to allow a wall of people to form between us._

_"We might need to split up," I say under my breath. "There's a girl-"_

_Gunfire rips through the crowd, and several people near me slump to the ground. Screams pierce the air as a second round mows down another group behind us. Gale and I drop to the street, scuttle the ten yards to the shops, and take cover behind a display of spike-heeled boots outside a shoe seller's._

_A row of feathery footwear blocks Gale's view. "Who is it? Can you see?" he asks me. What I can see, between alternating pairs of lavender and mint green leather boots, is a street full of bodies. The little girl who was watching me kneels beside a motionless woman, screeching and trying to rouse her. Another wave of bullets slices across the chest of her yellow coat, staining it with red, knocking the girl onto her back. For a moment, looking at her tiny crumpled form, I lose my ability to form words. Gale prods me with his elbow. "Katniss?"_

_"They're shooting from the roof above us," I tell Gale. I watch a few more rounds, see the white uniforms dropping into the snowy streets. "Trying to take out the Peacekeepers, but they're not exactly crack shots. It must be the rebels." I don't feel a rush of joy, although theoretically my allies have broken through. I am transfixed by that lemon yellow coat._

_"If we start shooting, that's it," Gale says. "The whole world will know it's us."_

_"It's true. We're armed only with our fabulous bows. To release an arrow would be like announcing to both sides that we're here._

_"No," I say forcefully. "We've got to get to Snow."_

_"Then we better start moving before the whole block goes up," says Gale. Hugging the wall, we continue along the street. Only the wall is mostly shopwindows. A pattern of sweaty palms and gaping faces presses against the glass. I yank my scarf up higher over my cheekbones as we dart between outdoor displays. Behind a rack of framed photos of Snow, we encounter a wounded Peacekeeper propped against a strip of brick wall. He asks us for help. Gale knees him in the side of the head and takes his gun. At the intersection, he shoots a second Peacekeeper and we both have firearms._

_"So who are we supposed to be now?" I ask._

_"Desperate citizens of the Capitol," says Gale. "The Peacekeepers will think we're on their side, and hopefully the rebels have more interesting targets."_

_I'm mulling over the wisdom of this latest role as we sprint across the intersection, but by the time we reach the next block, it no longer matters who we are. Who anyone is. Because no one is looking at faces. The rebels are here, all right. Pouring onto the avenue, taking cover in doorways, behind vehicles, guns blazing, hoarse voices shouting commands as they prepare to meet an army of Peacekeepers marching toward us. Caught in the cross fire are the refugees, unarmed, disoriented, many wounded._

_A pod's activated ahead of us, releasing a gush of steam that parboils everyone in its path, leaving the victims intestine-pink and very dead. After that, what little sense of order there was unravels. As the remaining curlicues of steam intertwine with the snow, visibility extends just to the end of my barrel. Peacekeeper, rebel, citizen, who knows? Everything that moves is a target. People shoot reflexively, and I'm no exception. Heart pounding, adrenaline burning through me, everyone is my enemy. Except Gale. My hunting partner, the one person who has my back. There's nothing to do but move forward, killing whoever comes into our path. Screaming people, bleeding people, dead people everywhere. As we reach the next corner, the entire block ahead of us lights up with a right purple glow. We backpedal, hunker down in a stairwell, and squint into the light. Something's happening to those illuminated by it. They're assaulted by… what? A sound? A wave? A laser? Weapons fall from their hands, fingers clutch their faces, as blood sprays from all visible orifices – eyes, noses, mouths, ears. In less than a minute, everyone's dead and the glow vanishes. I grit my teeth and run, leaping over the bodies, feet slipping in the gore. The wind whips the snow into blinding swirls but doesn't block out the sound of another wave of boots headed our way._

_"Get down!" I hiss at Gale. We drop where we are. My face lands in a still-warm pool of someone's blood, but I play dead, remain motionless as the boots march over us. Some avoid the bodies. Others grind into my hand, my back, kick my head in passing. As the boots recede, I open my eyes and nod to Gale._

_On the next block, we encounter more terrified refugees, but few soldiers. Just when it seems we might have caught a break, there's a cracking sound, like an egg hitting the side of a bowl but magnified a thousand times. We stop, look around for the pod. There's nothing. Then I feel the tips of my boots beginning to tilt ever so slightly. "Run!" I cry to Gale. There's not time to explain, but in a few seconds the nature of the pod becomes clear to everyone. A seam has opened up down the center of the block. The two sides of the tiles street are folding down like flaps, slowly emptying the people into whatever lies beneath._

_I'm torn between making a beeline for the next intersection and trying to get to the doors that line the street and break my way into a building. As a result, I end up moving at a slight diagonal. As the flap continues to drop, I find my feet scrambling, harder and harder, to find purchase on the slippery tiles. It's like running along the side of an icy hill that gets steeper at every step. Both of my destinations – the intersection and the builds – are a few feet away when I feel the flap going. There's nothing to do but use my last seconds of connection to the tiles to push off for the intersection. As my hands latch on to the side, I realize the flaps have swung straight down. My feet dangle in the air, no foothold anywhere. From fifty feet below, a vile stench hits my nose, like rotted corpses in the summer heat. Black forms crawl around in the shadows, silencing whoever survives the fall._

_A strangled cry comes from my throat. No one is coming to help me. I'm losing my grip on the icy ledge, when I see I'm only about six feet from the corner of the pod. I inch my hands along the ledge, trying to block out the terrifying sounds from below. When my hands straddle the corner, I swing my right boot up over the side. It catches on something and I painstakingly drag myself up to street level. Panting, trembling, I crawl out and wrap my arm around a lamppost for an anchor, although the ground's perfectly flat._

_"Gale?" I call into the abyss heedless of being recognized. "Gale?"_

_"Over here!" I look in bewilderment to my left. The flap held up everything to the very base of the buildings. A dozen or so people made it that far and now hang from whatever provides a handhold. Doorknobs, knockers, mail slots. Three doors down from me, Gale clings to the decorative iron grating around an apartment door. He could easily get inside if it was open. But despite repeated kicks to the door, no one comes to his aid._

_"Cover yourself!" I lift my gun. He turns away and I drill the lock until the door flies inward. Gale swings into the doorway, landing in a heap on the floor. For a moment, I experience the elation of his rescue. Then the white-gloved hands clamp down on him._

_Gale meets my eyes, mouths something at me I can't make out. I don't know what to do. I can't leave him, but I can't reach him either. His lips move again. I shake my head to indicate my confusion. At any minute, they'll realize who they've captured. The Peacekeepers are hauling him inside now. "Go!" I hear him yell._

_I turn and run away from the pod. All alone now. Gale a prisoner. Cressida and Pollux could be dead ten times over. And Peeta? I haven't laid eyes on him since we left Tigris's. I hold on to the idea that he may have gone back. Felt an attack coming and retreated to the cellar while he still had control. Realized there was no need for a diversion when the Capitol has provided so many. No need to be bait and have to take the nightlock – the nightlock! Gale doesn't have any. And as for all that talk of detonating his arrows by hand, he'll never get the chance. The first thing the Peacekeepers will do is to strip him of his weapons._

_I fall into a doorway, tears stinging my eyes. Shoot me. That's what he was mouthing. I was supposed to shoot him! That was my job. That was our unspoken promise, all of us, to one another. And I didn't do it and now the Capitol will kill him or torture him or hijack him or – the cracks begin opening inside me, threatening to break me into pieces. I have only hope. That the Capitol falls, lays down its arms, and gives up its prisoners before they hurt Gale. But I can't see that happening while Snow's alive._

_A pair of Peacekeepers runs by, barely glancing at the whimpering Capitol girl huddled in a doorway. I choke down my tears, wipe the existing ones off my face before they can freeze, and pull myself back together. Okay, I'm still an anonymous refugee. Or did the Peacekeepers who caught Gale get a glimpse of me as I fled? I remove my cloak and turn it inside out, letting the black lining show instead of the red exterior. Arrange the hood so it conceals my face. Grasping my gun close to my chest, I survey the block. There's only a handful of dazed-looking stragglers. I trail close behind a pair of old men who take no notice of me. No one will expect me to be with old men. When we reach the end of the next intersection, they stop and I almost bump into them. It's the City Circle. Across the wide expanse ringed by grand buildings sits the president's mansion._

_The Circle's full of people milling around, wailing, or just sitting and letting the snow pile up around them. I fit right in. I begin to weave my way across to the mansion, tripping over abandoned treasures and snow-frosted limbs. About halfway there, I become aware of the concrete barricade. It's about four feet high and extends in a large rectangle in front of the mansion. You would think it would be empty, but it's packed with refugees. Maybe this is the group that's been chosen to be sheltered at the mansion? But as I draw closer, I notice something else. Everyone inside the barricade is a child. Toddlers to teenagers. Scared and frostbitten. Huddled in groups or rocking numbly on the ground. They aren't being led into the mansion. They're penned in, guarded on all sides by Peacekeepers. I know immediately it's not for their protection. If the Capitol wanted to safeguard them, they'd be down in a bunker somewhere. This is for Snow's protection. The children form his human shield._

The crowd pauses as a large hovercraft bearing the Capitol seal flies over the mansion. A large box is slowly lowered somewhere onto the roof, and the hovercraft takes off. I wonder if President Snow is getting supplies to prepare for siege when the rebel forces approach.

The mass of bodies shift as people in the crowd grasp. I wonder if the Rebels have broken through, but the sound I hear indicates something even worse. A familiar breathy sound echoes across the yard. The nauseating scent of roses causes me to gag. As I struggle I am able to get up the flagpole and confirm the source of the commotion. A pair of grotesque mutts rips through a group of Peacekeepers and rips through the barrier as they sniff the air to find my scent. The children shriek with terror as the mutts seem to call out "_Katniss!"_

I immediately recognize that my disguise is about to be revealed. Even the scent of the makeup that Tigris applied to my face is not enough to hide me from the mutts. I pause only long enough to see the mutts look in my direction and then make climb up the flagpole. The Peacekeepers freeze in confusion. The mutts rip through a dozen children as they leap toward the pole. The human shield that President Snow undoubtedly hoped would give pause to the rebel forces now stuns and confuses his own army. In a surprisingly merciful way, the Peacekeepers begin tearing through the barrier surrounding the children to let them escape.

I look as the mutts begin trying to climb up the flagpole. By now at least some of the Peacekeepers have inferred my identity, as the sound of a bullet striking the metal pole stuns me for a moment. It does not take long for me to recognize that I am pinned with President Snow's army on one side, and the hissing mutts on the other. I look toward the doors of the mansion. The extravagant patterns and colors seem to mock me. So many people have sacrificed so much to get me into these doors, and I am so close. The odor of roses taunts me as I climb further. Additional bullets hit the flagpole. The screams of the children echo as they pour out from around the President's mansion.

_"Katniss!_" hisses one of the mutts as it leaps onto the barrier, and then onto the pole. I can tell I do not have much time left before either a bullet or a mutt reaches me, but I continue to climb toward the flag of Panem that flutters slightly in the icy breeze at the top of the pole.

"Katniss!" comes a voice from across the way. This is not the hissed sound of a mutt. It is human… and it is a voice I recognize. I whirl around to confirm my ears are not deceiving me. The mixture of joy, shock, and terror that sweeps over me has a stunning effect on me. The climbing mutt must have sensed I was caught off guard, as it leaps up toward my feet. An arrow flies through its head and knocks it down to the ground inside the barrier, which is now almost devoid of the children that had covered the yard. The Peacekeepers must also be thrown off guard since the bullets stop, but I hardly notice as I shout back to my rescuer.

"Gale!" I shout. He is obviously in bad shape. He has reopened the injury on his neck, and there are several other places where blood flows. I want to run to him, and to hold him, and to hear the story of his escape. He takes out an exploding arrow and opens a new hole in the barrier near the flagpole.

"Go!" he shouts. "I have your back!" He pulls another exploding arrow out, and hits the colorful doors at the front of President Snow's mansion, blowing a large hole in them. As I am sliding down the pole I see the other mutt leaping toward the pole. I leap on top of it, pounding its head into the ground and cushioning my landing, and then I spring toward the door. I hear the mutt hissing as it leaps toward me, but another arrow knocks it off of its path.

I turn to give a signal of thanks to my hunting companion. I am not prepared for what happens next.

"Gale!" I shout as the bullets of peacekeeper guns riddle his body, and he slumps to the ground.


	3. Chapter 25

**25**

Although the journey to President Snow's mansion has cost the lives of many friends, seeing Gale cut down by Capitol forces makes my blood boil. I know I should be sad. This should feel the same way it did when Rue was impaled, or when Mags rushed into the poison fog, or when Finnick was torn apart by the mutts that had been chasing me. I know I should be thinking only of Gale. He always had my back, but right now I can only think of the satisfaction I will feel when one of my arrows pierces the sickly heart of President Snow.

Perhaps it's the scent of roses that fills the mansion, or perhaps the sound of the mutt pursuing me, or perhaps seeing Gale die made something inside me snap, but it is more than the icy weather seeping into the door of the mansion that makes me feel cold inside.

"_Katniss!_" comes a hiss from behind me. I whirl around and pin one of its clawed paws to the hardwood floor with an arrow. After a brief moment, the incendiary tip burns the flesh of the mutt and its leg burns off. Though the mutt does not seem to be affected by pain, its balance is thrown off, and its attempt to run at me results in a clumsy stumble onto the floor.

I rush up a large staircase that spirals up. The padded carpet on each step is covered with red and white roses. I look carefully trying to visually uncover any traps or spot personal guards, but the mansion is curiously empty. If I were not so filled with rage, I might stop to think about what reason President Snow might have for not having guards or traps everywhere. There is no way he would rely solely on his human shield of children for protection.

I clench my teeth as I rush up the stairs. I point the arrow that rests in my bowstring as I look all around me for potential targets. Finally the top of the stairs lead to a large greenhouse in the interior of the mansion. There are hedges filled with rose bushes inside, and I know instinctively that this is where Snow will be.

As I open the thick transparent doors that lead inside, the warm humid air almost stuns me. It is just like the sick hot feeling in the arena where the Quell was held. I quickly brush the sensation away as I carefully walk down to the lawn covered floor. I scan the area for threats before removing my coat and wiping the thick layer of makeup that Tigris had applied off of my face. I feel lighter and I move more nimbly. The hedges zigzag forcing me to walk further in the nauseating smell of the roses, but I press on as the scent of blood begins to mix with the nearly overpowering perfume of the flowers.

My ears strain to hear anything that might hinder my progress. It is ominously quiet. There are no birds or insects in this greenhouse. I quiet the sound of my breathing as I move, just as I always did with Gale as we hunted in the woods outside district 12. The seemingly endless rows of hedges take the edge off of my anger, and suddenly the emotions that I should have felt when Gale slumped down now land on me like a tangible weight. I stifle the urge to choke and sob as a tear wells up in my eyes and rolls down my cheek.

Hundreds of memories flood my mind. I remember when we first met, and he had been so suspicious of me inspecting his snares. I remember him helping me set my own snares in the woods. I remember feeling impatient with him when I was showing him how to use a bow. The quiet that lingers in the air reminds me of the quiet times we sat together fishing in ponds in the woods.

I blink the tears out of my eyes and force myself to turn, determined to avoid any traps that President Snow might have put in his personal rose garden. I walk forward again, but quickly lose myself in memories.

I remember being wrapped in his strong arms, and feeling his warmth as we kissed. I had loved him, and the pain of seeing him cut down by Peacekeepers was now more excruciating than seeing him bound to the whipping post at the hands of Thread in district 12.

I remember his angry tirades in the woods, and I remember thinking how pointless it was. I would never have imagined then that we would fight our way into the president's mansion. He should be here with me! How dare they cut him down! How dare they take him from me!

Anger again stems the flow of tears. I again clench my teeth and press on. I remember President Snow's snake-like eyes in my home in district 12 as he threatened my "cousin" as he called Gale, even though he knew the truth. My feet move quickly toward the other end of the greenhouse.

Suddenly the sound of rustling hedges causes me to come to a halt and whirl about. I see rose leaves flying into the air as something is crawling through the thorny barriers toward me.

"_Katniss!_" comes the familiar hiss of the mutt. Just as the mutts that cast themselves into the toxic waste underground in an effort to tear me apart, this now three-legged monstrosity was ignoring the thorns that must be shredding its thick skin as it pulls itself toward me. I can only mark its progress by watching the hedges shake.

Now that they had taken Gale from me, I realize there is not one that has my back. It is up to me to make Snow pay. I run back and forth through the hedges. I turn to see the mutt is gaining because it is not zigzagging. It seems to be gaining speed as it catches my scent, obviously having adjusted to moving with three legs. I turn the opposite direction and realize there are only a few more rows.

Suddenly a sick tangled feeling knots up in my stomach as I wonder whether I was mistaken to assume Snow would be here. With no guards and no traps, I now question whether my entire effort to hunt down the President might have been aimed incorrectly. All of the friends I had lost to get here come rushing back to my memory as I run. Especially Gale… the sight of his slashed skin, the sticky blood oozing out of his neck, the puffs of breath that suddenly stopped coming out of his mouth when he slumped to the ground…

I rush faster now. My strides lengthen as I turn down the last row of hedges. The rustling of rose leaves and the hissing of my seemingly undying pursuer feels almost on top of me. At any moment, I will see its disturbing human eyes staring into my own.

I rush around the last obstacle and see President Snow smiling with his puffy lips in some sort of control booth. Off to the side of the greenhouse is the large box I saw the hovercraft drop off. I pull up my bow almost unconsciously and point an arrow at Snow's head when suddenly something makes me stop: a slight discoloration in the shape of a diamond just a few feet between where President Snow stands and where I am poised to strike.

The rustling of the hedges stops as the mutt leaps toward me. I rush toward President Snow. He smiles wider, but does not move… and why should he? There is a force field that protects him. He wants to observe. He wants to watch me die. The mutt leaps onto me. I roll onto my back and kick it up in the air. Its momentum carries it toward Snow when the force field zaps the mutt and hurls it back. I rush toward it and pull out one of my knives, cutting off its head. It stops moving almost immediately. I breathe heavily as I turn to Snow who is slowly and dramatically clapping his hands.

"Well done Miss Everdeen!" he says. His voice is carried through speakers throughout the greenhouse. "I didn't think you could actually hear the force field… it feels good to know that I was justified in having those responsible for your augmented hearing killed!"

"Justified!?" I shout. His use of the word prompts me to draw and explosive arrow and fire it at the weakness in the field. The force field flickers with the blast, but remains intact. President Snow laughs.

"Oh no…" he chides. "There is no lightning to harness in my greenhouse… I am beyond your reach." I breathe slowly and look around. There must be a way. I look carefully at the lit panels that surround him behind the force field. He has not touched any of them yet, so it is possible he might have traps or weapons in the room that he can activate, but I am mostly worried that he might have a mechanism that allows him to escape. I cannot let him escape when he is so close. I remember the rebel forces closing in on the mansion.

"Your empire is reduced to this mansion President," I say feigning confidence. "The Capitol is nearly defeated, and I have only to wait until power is cut to your force field." Snow frowns. It is the first time I have seen genuine frustration in his eyes. It fills me with exhilaration.

"Yes Mockingjay…" he confesses. "It is true that my defeat is inevitable." His eyes seem to narrow as he looks into mine. I feel an awful chill run down my spine, in spite of his admission. "I spent so much time thinking that I could make you my pawn. You are not the first tribute to do something I found disagreeable you know… but you are the first one that she was able to use."

She? I had thought the power struggle in Panem was between the people and President Snow. Had I missed another player in his game? Suddenly I realized to whom he was referring. I had been so focused on my desire to kill Snow, so affected by the ferocity of the mutts and the pods and the Peacekeepers in the Capitol, so stunned by the death of Gale, that I had completely forgotten about President Coin.

She had been controlling, and she did not like that my cooperation had come at a price. Although I had not immediately seen it behind her frank and stoic appearance, it was obvious even to loyal soldiers from 13 that she disliked me. Boggs had believed that Coin had sent Peeta into our star squad hoping the tracker jacker madness would cause him to kill me for her, and in spite of Peeta's progress I agreed with him.

"Your stunt with the berries had perfect timing, and she knew it," continued Snow. "I knew it too… and I accounted for it. The Quarter Quell was the perfect method to kill you without making you a martyr… both you and Peeta Mellark. I was so determined to have a single victor in the seventy-fourth hunger games… to put you and by extension all the districts in line."

His voice seems different as the words fall from his disgusting puffy lips. There is a trace of something I never expected to hear from the tyrant of Panem: regret. Of course he did not regret the murders, or the perversions, or the abuses that he had inflicted on the people he was supposed to have protected, but the tone in his voice almost generates a hint of pity inside of me.

"In fact, I was so determined," starts Snow as he walks to a panel in his control cove. "…that I named having a victor as a term of my surrender…" I tilt my head in confusion. What is he saying? He presses a button and suddenly a muffled noise comes from the large metal box to my left. I had completely forgotten about the special delivery that the Capitol hovercraft had made to the mansion. I point an arrow toward the box as I listen carefully to the noise that is being repeated. It is a whisper. President Snow is manipulating screens and buttons in his cove as the whisper becomes more intense. I freeze as I perceive what is being said.

"Katniss!... Katniss!" The voice, though muffled, clearly belongs to Peeta.

I whirl back to President Snow. He is furiously pressing buttons. I become aware of the cameras that are being lowered throughout the greenhouse. The hum of machines and power suddenly amplifies and a large golden cornucopia is lifted from beneath the floor into the center of the greenhouse. I whirl back in horror to see President Snow making his last preparations.

"President Coin would not have done this!" I shout. "You're lying! You're trying to manipulate me! I saw the Capitol seal on the hovercraft!" It almost sounds like he is hissing as he chuckles.

"Are you so blind to the obvious?" asks Snow. "If I was truly in control of a hovercraft, I would have used it to escape. Of course Coin was in on it. Did you think her stoic exterior hid altruistic motives? Did you think your rebellion was going to change Panem into a land of freedom? She is no better than I am…"

I open my mouth to object, but nothing comes out. I want to tell him that he is wrong. I want to tell him that while I may not be a fan of Coin, she is far better than he is. I want to tell him that the people of Panem will be free, and that the age of the hunger games is over. Instead I consider the hovercraft that delivered Peeta to the Presidential mansion. Why did he not escape? Why did he stay? Was inflicting more pain on me more important than his own survival? No, that could not be true. He truly had regret in his voice when he admitted he had lost. He regretted a course of action that was leading to his death. He had worked so hard to be a survivor. It was almost as if he was a tribute: willing to do anything to anyone in his desperation to keep living.

Could Coin have found Peeta? While I was sneaking toward the Mansion, and nearly getting killed with Gale, could she have been negotiating terms of surrender? How could they have planned that I would make it through all of the defenses into the mansion? Maybe they were betting on me, just like Cinna had… and in the end, I am just a pawn. I have become just a piece in a larger game… a condition for surrender…

"And besides," says Snow. "I thought we had agreed not to lie to each other…"

We had agreed. The memory of him sitting in my home in district 12 immediately comes to my mind. He was so matter-of-fact. He was so open about his plans for me on the victory train. In fact, now that I think about it, I can see a similarity in Coin's down-to-business attitude. In the contract I had made with her to be her Mockingjay in exchange for immunity for the victors of the hunger games, she had been very straightforward about the terms, and even implied threats if I broke my contract with her.

"It doesn't matter at this point if you believe me," says Snow at last. "You will provide me with the entertainment you owe me… the long overdue conclusion to the 74th hunger games!" He presses a button and the metal box opens up.

Peeta turns toward me and angrily furrows his brow.

"Katniss!" he hisses.

What choice do I have? I rush toward the cornucopia.


	4. Chapter 26

**26**

I know as soon as I start out that the rush to the cornucopia will not be as straightforward as my race with the mutt to reach Snow's control cove. I turn back to see Peeta stumbling and waving in the air, obviously under the influence of fresh tracker jacker venom. I hope this will buy me the time I need to at least keep him away from the weapons in the cornucopia.

The long hedges of rose bushes slide so that the opening is further away. I avoid showing the frustration that I feel as Snow pushes buttons to manipulate this greenhouse arena, and rush toward the new opening. As I leap through, the rose bushes close and the thorns tear at my clothing. If my legs were scraped, I cannot tell. I rush toward the opening in the next row only to have the sliding hedges again shift to block my way. This row of hedges shifts quicker and I am not able to rush to the opening fast enough. I frown and look at my surroundings. I reach for an explosive arrow, but find that section of my quiver empty. I reach for an incendiary arrow, and find I still have a few. I take aim at the hedge, but quickly turn towards the outside glass and release the arrow. It seems to bounce off before it bursts into flames.

"Bulletproof glass Miss Everdeen!" laughs Snow through the speakers. "There is no weapon here that can help you escape."

I rush to the burning arrow and kick it into the hedge. The roses slowly burst into flames. I look around as I hear Peeta angrily calling "Katniss!"

I slash through a chunk of mostly burned branches with my knife, but it is clear the fire has not yet had time to sap the moisture away from it. Instead of snapping off, it bends, and then flings embers at me as it snaps back toward me. Seeing the small glowing sparks on my clothing reminds me of dodging the game maker's fireballs. I brush them off in a panic, but then breathe deeply and look at my knife. This knife does not feature a serrated edge like the one I used to saw the tree branch holding the tracker jacker nest in my first hunger games, so I decide against sawing as I watch the moist thorny branch sway back and forth. The branch quickly comes to a halt as the memory of Gale's sapling snares comes to my mind. The springy action of the trunk of the small trees outside district 12 was perfect for quickly pulling line and trapping rabbits or squirrels.

I stick my knife into the ground and slide it against the branches, pressing them away from me. I spin across the gap in the hedge and yank my knife up, flinging the branches back and scattering sparks and embers near Peeta's feet. His eyes are bloodshot and his pupils are dilated as he looks for me. Obviously, the light of the fire is feeding his hallucinations.

I want the old Peeta back so badly. I have never felt so alone in an arena since I thought Peeta was working with the careers to hunt me down. As I look up at the artificial lights and cameras, I realize that this time, I will not even have the benefit of silver parachutes from Haymitch. I wonder what my mentor would say to me now. No, I know exactly what he would say. It would be a reminder of the task with which I begged him to help me… the task that had been so important to me that I lashed out at him and scratched his face when I realized that I had been rescued from the games and not Peeta. I want to save him. I am tired of owing him.

It was such a burden to know that he had been beaten by his mother to risk giving me bread. It was the bread that saved my entire family… the bread I needed before I learned to hunt and trap with Gale.

I owed him for fighting off Cato to save my life in the hunger games. I owed him for winning me sponsors that undoubtedly saved me. I owed him for using his genuine love to get ahead in the games. I owed him for staying by me even though I had hurt him. I owed him for risking his life to warn district 13 right in front of President Snow, and I owed him for the torture and the pain he had suffered in the hands of the Capitol sadists.

My fingers reached down into the pouch at my waist and felt the pearl he had pulled from an oyster in the saltwater of the Quarter Quell and I think back to his desperation as he plead with me to let him be the one of us to die, because he could not live without me.

"Katniss!" he moans from the other side of the burning hedge as he stumbles on the ground again and waves at the air as if trying to swat something away from him.

In spite of the terrors he had endured, I suddenly wondered if the Capitol had given him a gift. He was no longer the boy that limped at me with blood gashing out his leg begging me to put an arrow through him. He was no longer the boy that agreed to eat nightlock berries with me. When he had come back from the Capitol to district 13, he had lunged for my throat to kill me. In spite of his cruelty, President Snow had given Peeta Mellark a way to live without me.

I clench my fists as I silently vow that I will find a way to save him. I will find a way to free him. I will find a way to rid myself of the heavy debt I owe Peeta.

I turn to the next hedge. There is smoke rising from the middle of the hedge, but I realize this is not from my incendiary arrow. There is a clicking sound that comes from the hedge. I immediately think it is poison gas and back away. The gap allowing passage between the next row of hedges is on the other side of the smoke. I take a deep breath and run just past the smoke. Suddenly several shining yellow beads appear in my path several yards away. I back up slowly, afraid to take a breath, and unsure what new obstacle lies before me.

The yellow beads suddenly begin approaching in pairs, and I realize they are not beads at all, but yellow eyes with vertical slits for pupils. The hiss confirms my suspicion. Snow has sent snakes and they are probably some sort of mutts. Arrows will be pointless against a dozen snakes. I cautiously step back. Unable to hold my breath any further, I cough and wait for the poison to take me, but I quickly realize it is not poison coming through the hedge that bars my way, but smoke. There is a malfunction in the machinery that causes this hedge to slide. It is caught, and something is smoking.

While it is not poison coming at me, I realize that this has only delayed my death. The snakes are still slowly slithering toward me. Some come up closer, others keep to the sides, and others seem to stay back further. Their movements seem coordinated; they are hunting in a pack and cutting off any possible escape.

My eyes go back to the smoke for a moment, which seems to be the only element of the situation that has given me an advantage. It must have been caused by the lizard mutt barreling recklessly through the hedges. My mind races, searching for a way to press this advantage. Suddenly I have it. I rip a piece of fabric from my sleeve and tie it to a normal arrow. I fire my bow straight at the smoking section of the hedge. It is hot enough that it catches fire, transforming a normal arrow into a valuable incendiary arrow. The hedge begins to burn. The snakes seem to ignore it as they slowly approach. I move away from the burning hedge slowly so as not to upset the snakes and also to ensure the roses have time to catch on fire. In an instant, I rush toward the burning hedge and the snakes dart toward me.

I leap and curl into a ball, hoping that I do not get snagged on the fiery thorns. I feel a pair of fangs sink into my right leg as I crash through the hedge. The thorns scrape my skin and my clothing, but I make it through relatively ok. I quickly bring out my knife and slice the body off of the snake that latched itself to my leg, and then yank its head out of me. I use my knife to cut the bite marks using a technique my mother used on a bite victim. I squeeze the blood out of my leg as quickly as I can, hoping to flush most of the venom out of my system.

As I look back at the burning hedge behind me, suddenly I see dozens of yellow eyes. They must be the other snakes. I stagger back when I notice their shining bodies merging together and turning into a huge fiery snake with puffy lips that vaguely resembles President Snow. The shining is what gives me pause. It is the same term that Peeta had used to describe some of his tracker jacker hallucinations. This was not real. It also meant that the snakes were some sort of hybrid between the tracker jackers and vipers.

The hallucination morphs into Gale, who is on fire. He is screaming. I shut my eyes, but the sound of screaming still haunts me. As I open my eyes it is now Prim that is screaming, then lashing out at me. I grow dizzy as the hallucination changes into Peeta who is hissing my name over and over. I rub my eyes and squeeze my leg where the viper bit me. The burning pain and dizziness causes my vision to go dark even though I know my eyes are open.

After a few minutes the dizziness and pain disappear. I begin crawling toward the next hedge. If I recall correctly, there should only be two more that stand between me and the cornucopia. I look ahead and notice smoke rising from the center of this hedge as well. I suddenly wonder if I am still hallucinating. I turn back to the previous hedge and notice the charred bodies of snakes dangling in the burning hedge. It must be real. Perhaps the entire mechanism that moved the hedges has broken. Of course Snow will have other weapons, but I find comfort in the imperfection of his final trap. I also find comfort in the belief that I have destroyed many of the dangers that could hurt Peeta. Although he is slow and confused, he will likely survive. Hopefully, if I can buy enough time, he can find his sanity again.

I slowly crawl toward the gap, looking for any other mutts or snares that may lie in my path. To my surprise I find nothing in row between the hedges, and quickly make toward the gap where the cornucopia lies. I strain to listen for anything that could indicate danger, but I hear nothing.

Finally I come to the gap where the cornucopia comes into view. The gleam of the woven golden metal is bright in the artificial light. I squint to get a better look at what is inside and see a pile of knives and axes and hammers. Of course Snow would provide only hand to hand weapons. He wants to see Peeta and I exchange blows up close. If he could have taken my bow, he probably would have.

A sudden movement catches my attention. I strain again to listen. Suddenly spinning around the edge of the rose bushes is an avox with an axe. He swings the blade down, but not before I leap back. He is not large, but the pupils in his eyes are abnormally large.

"Katniss!" he moans. It is easy to tell that he has been hijacked.

I pull out an arrow and shoot him in the heart. He slumps to the ground motionless. I slowly regain my composure and creep back toward him. I yank the arrow through his body and wipe it off on his clothing. I must conserve arrows if there are other competitors in Snow's final hunger game.

I surprise myself by how little killing this avox affects me. Perhaps seeing so many friends die the past few days has hardened me more than I thought it would. There is a little part of me that knows part of what drives me now is my desire to find a way to save Peeta. Just like the mutts in the tunnels, the desire to kill me would not stop a hijacked avox from killing someone else.

Slowly I make my way toward the cornucopia. Each step is followed by a pause and a check for any other predators. After painstakingly traveling for some time, the distance between me and the heap of weapons shrinks. Suddenly a pair of avoxes leaps out from under the pile of weapons wielding knives. I strike one with an arrow immediately but as I turn back to run, another avox rushes from behind and sticks me in the leg with a knife. I cry out in spite of myself, but then draw an arrow and press it into the throat of the hijacked avox. He grabs the arrows from my quiver arrows and before I can react, he rushes away and begins breaking them.

I limp toward him to try and salvage my arrows, but the other avox from the pile rushes toward me. I pull the knife out of my leg and throw it at him. He falls down as it sticks into his chest. Finally he pulls the arrow from his throat and snaps it. Then with a gurgling sound, he chokes and falls down.

I limp in to the cornucopia hoping to find some medicine or bandages even though I know that President Snow is not interested in helping us heal. After a bit of searching, I find some cloth knife sheaths, and wrap these around my wound. I feel so thirsty, but there is no water here except in the air. The underclothing that Tigris supplied us was ideal for protection against the icy air outside. Inside this greenhouse, it feels sticky, hot, and uncomfortable. It also causes me to perspire, forcing me to lose more water. There are no tropical trees to tap, and the moisture in the roses will not be enough to justify the effort it would take to try to harvest it… especially now that my leg has been stabbed.

I try to be still, not only to rest, but also to listen for anyone else that Snow might send to hinder me. Now that I have made it to the cornucopia though, I believe I will be left alone. This must be the site of his intended final showdown. There are more lights and cameras here than anywhere else. Although he hindered me, it seems clear that he did not want me to die, only to injured and stripped of the use of the bow with which I stood my best chance.

He wanted to break my spirit; to remove any hope I might have to defy him. Now, unable to travel, and with no medicine, no water, and no arrows, it is only a matter of time before Peeta makes his way to the cornucopia. Under the influence of his hijacking, Peeta has already been manipulated into wanting to kill me. Strangely, it seems that President Snow's goal may temporarily be the same as my own. Snow wants Peeta to defeat me. He has always wanted me to be the one to die. He had not come to Peeta to threaten him after our joint victory. He had not threatened Peeta's family, even though they perished in the bombing of district 12. All of President Snow's anger and frustration was always embodied in me.

Of course once it was done, he would likely kill Peeta as well. There was no victory train prepared… no medical team standing by… no stylists to help make us look appealing to maintain the façade of glory for the champion… So I close my eyes and hold the cloth sheaths on my leg as I struggle to think how I can save Peeta. I cannot outrun him now… and even if I could, how much time could I buy? If President Coin is determined to let Snow play out his last fantasy, then she will avoid sending in her armies until I am dead…

I could fight him to incapacitate him… perhaps force a stalemate…

The memory of Peeta lifting those huge sacks of flour with his strong arms tells me that this strategy ends with me dying quickly. It would require very little effort for Peeta to hack through any defense I might put up, especially now that I am too slow to dodge.

I am determined to accept my fate courageously… the way that Peeta did when he threw down his weapon and walked toward me, pleading with me to shoot him. I put my now worthless bow down and pick up a long knife. I think it will be better to be stabbed than hacked apart with axes. I hunt through the pile, but I cannot find anything longer.

This will be it. I look at the knife in my hand. This will be the weapon that takes my life. The gleam of the lights is reduced under the shade of the cornucopia, but the metal still gleams as I move it back and forth. It is heavy for a knife. The tang is visible through the entire length of the handle, and the silver rivets that fasten the grip are polished to a mirror-like finish. The point is extremely sharp, which I think will be good. It is much nicer than the knives I used when hunting in district 12.

Hunting… I return in my mind again to the place where Gale and I would go. For a moment, the scent of roses that surrounds me is replaced by the scent of mint. The leaves that we would chew as we stalked a rabbit or dangled our fishing line in the clear water. I hear Gale's voice in my mind.

_"She'll probably choose the one that she can't survive without…"_

Gale had hardened after the bombing of district 12. There was a part of him that I lost. Perhaps that prevented me from having a complete breakdown when the part that I still had was gunned down by Peacekeepers.

Am I giving up because I can't survive without Gale? No, that is not it. I loved him, and I want him here, but if I was not wounded and could think of a way to take Peeta out of this awful greenhouse, I would do it.

I have already lost Peeta to the hijacking efforts of President Snow, so I am sure that I can survive without him… but if that is true, then why am I so determined to save him? Why could I not kill him earlier? Why did I not tell him to take his nightlock pill immediately? I attributed my desire to save him to my debt, but was that right?

My mind took me back to our victory train, when I had been so desperate to convince everyone that I loved Peeta. I wanted everyone to believe that I loved Panem, and that we should all be good citizens so that my mother and Prim and Gale would be safe… And even though Peeta Mellark was not in my list of people to protect, he was there for me. The nights when sleep had been restful were the nights I had been wrapped in Peeta's steady, supportive arms.

I must have been such a burden to everyone. I was so torn between my determination to never marry or bring children into the cruelty of life in district 12, my bond with Gale, and my newfound trust in the support of Peeta. In spite of my confusion, Peeta stayed with me. Of course he must have been jealous of Gale, but his actions were always motivated by a desire to help me… by his love for me.

The confusion sets in again. On the one hand, I miss Gale, and I hate President Snow for taking him from me. On the other hand, I wish that Peeta was here to hold me.

I must save Peeta. I shake my head to avoid being distracted by memories. I recall the thick transparent doors through which I entered, but I know that these will be sealed if Snow went to the trouble of mechanizing his precious roses and placing a cornucopia of weapons in the center of his greenhouse. This will not be a way to escape. He will keep me here until he confirms I am dead. I can imagine his sickly frame shaking with laughter as he sees me die. Then President Coin will let her forces storm the mansion and take Snow…

Suddenly a new thought interrupts me. President Coin is in on this. How will she know when I am dead? How will she know that she has allowed enough time for Snow to have his last indulgence? Is there a signal? Is there an agreed time?

I crawl outside the mouth of the cornucopia and look up to see cameras surrounding the area. The cameras represent the method that the Capitol has used to communicate the happenings in arenas for seventy-five years. I am being watched. Of course President Snow is monitoring everything, but it is the easiest way to maintain the integrity of the agreement between President Snow and President Coin is to let her watch the show.

I pretend to look up at the glass and not the cameras, but my mind is racing. The memory of the fake footage of district 13 comes to mind. I have been involved in producing many propos… there must be something I can do… but I know I am too late as the cornucopia begins to shake.

The last hedge of rose bushes is pulled into the ground revealing an angry and confused Peeta Mellark.

"Katniss! You will pay for what you have done!" shouts Peeta as he begins to run toward me.

I can tell as his eyes meet mine that the hallucinations of the venom have diminished. I can tell by way he furrows his brow at me that he is not rushing toward me to give me a kiss.

Peeta may not be able to sprint as quickly as me when I am healthy, but I am not healthy. Blood drips down my leg as I try to stand. I clench the long knife I had chosen to be the weapon that would take my life tightly and hobble onto the grass toward Peeta.

"Peeta! Stop!" I shout. He ignores me and rushes at me.

"You killed them Katniss!" he shouts as he tackles me to the ground. "You are a traitor!"

"No! Peeta! Think!" I groan as he pins my arms back. He grabs my throat and begins to squeeze. I struggle long enough to get a bit of a breath, but the pressure on my throat is painful. My dehydration only makes it feel worse. I drop the long knife and it bounces on the handle a few feet away. Suddenly he releases me and I fall onto the grass.

"I want to explain to me why you did it Katniss!" he says in a low angry tone. I choke and cough to try to get my breath back.

"Does it shine?" I whisper. He stops and gives me a look of confusion. His eyes go back and forth rapidly. It is as if he is sifting through memories.

"Y… yes…" stutters Peeta. "What is happening to me?" Peeta gets off of me and covers his face. He falls on the ground a writhes as if in pain. I breathe slowly as the choking sensation wears off. Finally I speak again.

"Peeta…" I call out to him. He does not respond.

"Do you know where we are?" I ask. After a pause looks up and notices the cornucopia.

"Why is there a cornucopia here in district 13?" he asks. "That's not right… that was only in the hunger games…"

"Peeta…" I whisper. "We're not in district 13…"

"Yes we are," says Peeta angrily. "I just saw President Coin. She told me that you killed everyone in 451…"

"You're still here though," I reply.

"Shut up!" shouts Peeta angrily. "She showed me the videos… you shot them all with your bow!"

"Who was with you when you saw it Peeta?" I ask.

"It was just me…" says Peeta. "Wait no… Gale was there too… but that can't be right… Gale is dead… I saw it in the video."

I can only imagine how awful it would be to have everything you think you know called into question. Peeta realizes that some of the things he thinks he knows are not real.

"We aren't in district 13 anymore Peeta…" I say. "Do you remember this morning, how we split up, and I came to hunt President Snow?"

"That wasn't this morning," says Peeta angrily. "That was… wait… when was it? What day is it?"

"Peeta, we are in President Snow's mansion" I say calmly. In spite of how parched my throat is, and how sore it is from Peeta squeezing it, I am able to speak in a steady voice. Peeta breathes deeply and looks around.

"That's right…" says Peeta softly. "But I could have sworn I was picked up by troops in rebel uniforms… The memory feels more real Katniss…" I am still assuming that Coin is watching. Even if I believe that Snow was right, and that Coin was complicit in our death match in this greenhouse, I know my best option to get Peeta out and keep him alive is to pin everything on Snow.

"It is no secret what rebel uniforms look like," I say. "And if there is one thing the Capitol has an abundance of, it's stylists…"

"They could have been… fakes…" says Peeta as he tries to work it out. "I also remember seeing a Capitol hovercraft…"

"That's real Peeta," I say. "I saw it lower the large metal box that you were inside of here…" Peeta looks at me, obviously still unsure if I am trustworthy. He suddenly notices the wound on my leg as I sit on the grass.

"You are hurt…" he says in confusion. "You were not hurt before…"

"A group of avoxes…" I say. "I think they were hijacked to get my arrows."

"But you still have arrows!" says Peeta angrily. I slowly turn to show him my back. He calms down again.

"Oh… you don't…" he says. I begin to think about how to bring up our need to escape, but I do not want to upset Peeta when he is just beginning to get a grip on reality again. I remember President Snow's smug taunt that there was no weapon here that would help us escape.

"We are being watched Peeta…" I say quietly. He slowly looks around and after a few moments he seems to see the cameras. I suddenly wonder why Snow is allowing this exchange to occur. Is he still watching? If he is, why would he not intervene since Peeta now seems willing to spare my life?

"The greenhouse has bulletproof glass," I continue. "I don't know how to escape…" To my surprise Peeta gives me a look of sympathy and compassion. He gets down next to me and looks into my eyes. Perhaps it is the lighting, or the tracker jacker venom, but the blue in his eyes seems bolder to me now. He puts his hand on my cheek and for a moment, the old Peeta is here with me again: steady, strong, loving. I blink, forcing myself to focus.

I do not know exactly how long I have been in the greenhouse, or how far away Coin's troops are, but I believe I have given them enough time to get into position. I need to convince Peeta of my plan without tipping off the cameras.

"The games end when I die Peeta…" I say softly. I choose my words carefully. While this suggestion will probably prevent intervention from Snow, it may set Peeta off again. "I need you to do something Peeta…" Peeta's eyes grow wide with worry. I put my hand on his cheek and kiss him. He runs his fingers across my face. When we stop, I hug him hard. He returns the embrace. I come close to his ear.

"Make it look good Peeta…" I whisper. I pull back and point to the long knife in the grass that I had chosen for my death. I now hope that Peeta understands it is for feigning my death. I want to make sure he survives. I want to make sure my family survives. I want to survive. Whatever Coin's ambitions may be, I want to defy Snow one more time. I want him to know that he failed. And then I want to help Peeta get back everything that was hijacked away from him. I am not resigned to die. I am living proof that it is possible to beat the hunger games.

Peeta turns and slowly picks up the long knife. He points it at me. Suddenly the speakers in the greenhouse squeal as Snow speaks.

"Peeta…?" says Snow. Peeta looks up as if trying to see Snow.

"The white rose is lovely, but its thorns are sharp…" says Snow. I am confused by this statement. Even if he heard my whisper to Peeta, why would he be making observations about roses? Would he not have blamed me for the bombing of district 12 and the deaths of Peeta's family? Would he not have done something to ensure that I am killed?

"Peeta, the white rose is lovely, but its thorns are sharp…" repeats Snow. It is almost as if he is speaking another language. I look at Peeta. He begins shaking. Suddenly I realize that this must have been a part of the hijacking effort. Snow used a phrase that is intended to unlock a memory or a behavior. I need to find a way to calm Peeta down. He turns toward me. His eyes no longer appear warm and sympathetic. They are like the windows through which I saw the crazed and hijacked Peeta after district 13 rescued him from the Capitol.

I get to my feet and begin to limp away from him. He starts to move toward me, but he stumbles and falls, obviously again suffering from hallucinations. I limp as quickly as I can hoping to put some distance between he and I. He gets up and swings the long knife into the air, stumbling back.

I turn ahead and focus on keeping my balance. I move toward the next gap. I get about halfway there when Peeta hacks through a chunk of the hedge with his knife and then barrels through. Though he has cut away a large portion, there are enough thorns that scrape him that blood begins to ooze out of various lacerations on his face, arms, and legs. He seems more angry as he gets to his feet. He whirls toward me.

"Katniss!" he shouts.

I limp back the way I came. He pursues me but stumbles and holds his head as if in pain. I wish I knew what to say to comfort him. I clench my fists in anger. I hate that Snow did this. It should have been Peeta that was rescued from district 13. It should have been me that was captured. I was ready to volunteer. They had let me go in place of Prim, why could I not have been left in place of Peeta?

Peeta gets up and shouts with a feral-like cry. I turn the corner and he seems to have lost me.

"Katniss!" he yells as he whirls his head back and forth. I limp faster, but the pain is excruciating. I can feel warm blood dripping down my wounded leg. The grass under my feet seems to pull against every step, and I am breathing heavily. The moisture in the air seems thicker, so it almost feels as if I am drowning, although my throat is still parched and not completely free from the effects of being choked.

Peeta has managed to locate me and rushes at me. He knocks me down and the makeshift bandage I had made from throwing knife sheaths comes off my leg. I pull my body away from Peeta with my arms and good leg, but I can tell the wound on my leg will not let me continue doing this for long. I wince at each motion but I am able to crawl a few feet before turning back.

Peeta gets up and swings his knife into the air. After a few moments, he seems confused that I am still there, but he comes closer. I push up off the ground and hop on my good leg rapidly back toward the cornucopia.

I trip on the grass and fall on my face. I try to move, but the exhaustion is so great that I can only roll over and watch as Peeta stumbles toward me. The moment for which President Snow has waited since the seventy-fourth hunger games seems to finally be here. Perhaps it is not possible to beat the hunger games.

Peeta frowns angrily at me and raises the long knife above me. I look into his eyes hoping that some piece of the old Peeta will see me and remember something of what we shared.

"Peeta!" I say. My voice is filled with desperation. "Peeta I…" I pause as I notice he is shifting his eyes back and forth, again trying to sort out what is real. I struggle to think of what would be the most believable thing I could say. What would ground him and help him come back? I blurt out the thing that comes to mind and then immediately regret it knowing he will never believe it.

"Peeta I love you!"

Peeta frowns angrily and swings his knife down at me, putting a huge gash in my hip.


	5. Chapter 27

**27**

The sting of the metal cleaving my skin is almost relieving. I had been foolish to think I could escape. I was always a piece in their games. Freedom was and is an illusion.

Peeta raises the knife to cut me again. A tear wells up in my eye. I remember our conversation on the roof before the games. He had said that he wanted to stay himself. He did not want to be a tool for the Capitol. Yet he was the one that lost himself. I failed to protect him.

I remember when Clove had held me down promising to cut me up slowly. Although I had been determined to keep my eyes open to meet my end, Thresh had unexpectedly saved me. There was no one to save me now, and no reason to keep my eyes opened. I let my eyelids fall shut and wait for the next cut. I keep waiting. It does not come. At last I open my eyes.

Peeta is holding the pearl he had given me staring at it. He must have cut it free from the pouch with his slice. He seems completely mesmerized by the way the light shines on its smooth surface. I can see its reflection in his blue eyes. I also notice a calm come over him. He throws the long knife behind him, and I hear it stick into the soft grass. He stares for another few moments before his focus turns to me.

"No," he says softly.

I am confused. Is he talking to himself? Is he answering a question he has been asked by one of his tracker jacker venom induced hallucinations?

"You must win…" he says softly. The tone in his voice is the same as it was the night he had begged me to let him die and to survive. The speakers squeal again.

"The white rose is lovely, but its thorns are sharp…" says Snow again. He is ready to see the end of his private hunger game. Peeta shakes for a moment but then looks at the pearl and calms down. I open my mouth in disbelief. I wait for the insanity to take Peeta and for him to return to cutting me, but he remains calm.

"Peeta!" shouts Snow angrily. "The white rose is lovely, but its thorns are sharp…" Peeta has another moment where his pupils dilate and then contract, but he focuses on the pearl.

"Not real!" shouts Peeta as he looks into a camera mounted above.

"The white rose is lovely, but its thorns are sharp… the white rose is lovely, but its thorns are sharp!" shouts Snow desperately. He repeats himself over and over and over, but Peeta holds on as he focuses on the pearl. Suddenly Peeta lowers his hand and looks at me. He smiles softly.

"I'm sorry for everything Katniss Everdeen…" he says.

"This white rose is lovely, but its thorns are sharp!" shrieks Snow. "Kill her Peeta! She murdered your mother and father!" I can see him clutching the pearl tightly, but he keeps himself. He bends down over me and kisses me softly. Whatever pain I felt in my leg seems to melt away as Peeta Mellark caresses my face.

In spite of Snow yelling profanities and lies to Peeta across the speakers, I hear something rustle close by. I open my eyes. Peeta is feeling across his shirt. I wonder what he is doing when I suddenly remember the nightlock pill I had given him.

"No!" I scream. President Snow stops his shouting, undoubtedly curious what has me so upset.

"You know it has to be this way," Peeta whispers as he pops the pill out of the seam of his collar. I can think of nothing else to stop him; I punch him as hard as I can in the face. He staggers back and drops the pill. I reach for it and grab it.

"I will not let you kill yourself Peeta!" I scream at him as I smash it into powder in my fingers and grind it into the dirt.

"Without you, I would not be surviving!" I shout angrily. He rubs his face where I hit him. He seems to be thinking very carefully. His eyes narrow as he looks at me.

"Real or not real?" he says. I do not even hesitate a moment. I pull myself close to him and put my head on his shoulder.

"Real!" I say. I hold him close. After a few moments of silence, he puts his arms around me.

The sound of an explosion overhead startles us. Does Snow intend to kill us both now that his death match appears to have failed? We look up to see chunks of the bulletproof glass falling. Peeta picks me up and carries me to the shelter of the cornucopia as another explosion rocks the entire greenhouse.

"No!" screams Snow over the speakers. "I'm not done!"

Another explosion shakes everything, and the lights go out. Snowflakes begin to enter the greenhouse through the large hole in the ceiling, and the hot, moist air is quickly cooling with exposure to the outside and a lack of power.

The sound of gunfire echoes through the room. I hold close to Peeta as he kisses my cheek. After a few minutes large lights shine on us, blinding us. We squint our eyes and slowly begin to make out the shape of a person walking slowly toward us in a long coat.

"Are you seeing this?" Peeta says. "Is this just me?"

"I see it too," I reply. I strain to see who is approaching us. Finally, I recognize him. It is Haymitch.

"Good job sweetheart," he says. I smile and hold Peeta. I become aware that my side is hot, and remember the bleeding wound in my leg. Unfortunately, I only remember as everything goes black.

When I come to, I am in a bed. Peeta is standing beside me. Prim is also here.

"Don't try to get up," says Prim. "I don't want you reopening those cuts." The tone of her voice tells me that my injuries are no longer life-threatening. Peeta takes my hand, but there is something unsteady about his touch that causes me to frown.

"How are you doing Peeta?" I ask him.

"I haven't lost myself again, if that's what you're asking," he replies. "I have some moments where I have to stop and focus still, but Dr. Aurelius seemed to think I was well enough to be here."

I smile, but I know there is something that he is withholding from me. My instincts tell me that it has to do with Coin, but I think that she cannot be upset with us if she sent in the troops to rescue us.

"I guess everyone is, since all of Panem saw us…" I feign happiness, but inwardly, I wonder how all of Panem was able to see us. This should have been a private show for President Snow and President Coin. Coin would not have wanted my conversation with Snow to have aired. Perhaps that part was edited out… or perhaps President Snow was trying to pull one last maneuver to undermine Coin. No, that cannot be right, he undermined himself too. He would never do that publicly.

One way or the other, the fact that all of Panem saw us must be the reason that Peeta feels so unsteady. Also, the fact that he is not speaking about it more freely means we are being watched.

A knock at the door interrupts us. President Coin comes in.

"Soldier Everdeen, I am relieved to see you awake," she says matter-of-factly. There is no trace of emotion on her face or in her voice. Peeta squeezes my hand when she walks toward me.

"Soldier Mellark," she says. "Would you mind giving us a moment?" Peeta lowers his head.

"Of course not…" he replies. After kissing me on the cheek, he leaves the room.

"Your work was valuable to us Soldier Everdeen…" says Coin. "Because of your team's efforts, we were able to more quickly secure the Capitol. The war is over thanks to you."

"What about Snow?" I ask.

"You have kept your end of our contract so far," says Coin. "And so have I… I do want to point out that Snow implied some things that were untrue…"

She is fishing. She wants to see if I believe what Snow said about her involvement in giving Peeta and I to him in exchange for his surrender. I know better than to make accusations here before I find out what Peeta knows.

"Obviously he was desperate," I say. "You didn't think I believed him?"

"No," says Coin. "I just wondered if you had any questions after what happened… if there is anything I might help clarify…"

"I do have one question actually," I say. Her face tenses slightly. "I still get to kill Snow, right?"

Coin smiles, unable to mask the relief on her face.

"Of course," she replies. "In fact, we are making preparations for his execution right now. If there's nothing else, I will let you rest Soldier Everdeen."

"Thank you President," I say. She leaves the room. Peeta lowers his eyes as she passes him, and then comes back into the room.

"How long have I been out?" I ask before he can say anything else.

"A couple days," says Peeta. "They gave you sedatives once you were secured while they repaired your leg."

"Did Pollux and Cassida make it?" I ask. Peeta nods and smiles.

"Yes," he says softly.

"I'm glad," I say. "I was worried that everyone who went with me might end up dead…" Peeta takes my hand.

"Get some rest," says Peeta. "We need to get you ready for Snow's execution…"


	6. Chapter 28

**28**

Peeta disappears for the next few days. Prim seems to have taken his place and has cheerfully helped me in the recovery process. In a relatively short amount of time, I am able to stand again, although she recommends that I do not walk. Her long blonde braid bouncing as she walks always seems to cheer me up, in spite of the fact that I know something is being kept from me. It is also being kept from Prim. It is probably better that I do not know the details yet.

Finally, I receive clearance from my mother to walk. Peeta comes and helps me walk down the passages in district 13 that lead to the armory. The familiar series of authentication tests and scans is almost comforting.

At last I get in to the armory. Peeta accompanies me to the offices where I expect to find Beetee. Instead his offices are empty. All that we find is my custom bow, and a quiver holding a single arrow.

"It's meant to be symbolic," explains Peeta as he hands it to me. "The final arrow in the heart of the tyrant. It's supposed to end the war." I pick it up and look at it. It has been custom made with razor sharp tip. The shaft of the arrow contains the names of heroes that have fallen.

"It's perfect," I reply. "Except it is missing one thing…" Peeta's face goes white. I wonder for a moment what frightens him, but I know it is not safe to discuss here.

"When I went back to my house in district 12, I found a single rose," I explain. "I know it came from him… He always masked the scent of blood with his roses…" Peeta is visibly relieved. "I want to go back to get it, so I can pin it to his heart with this arrow…"

"I'm certain we can get that approved," says Peeta. "Besides, we have to pick Haymitch up anyway… Plutarch wants everyone there for the execution."

Later that day, Peeta accompanies me on a hovercraft ride to district 12. There is no worry about Capitol patrols any longer, and we land comfortably. We walk to the victor house casually. I can tell we are being watched by the troops that wait by the hovercraft, but Peeta seems more comfortable here. I open the door to the house and Peeta suddenly takes me into his arms and kisses me. He slams the door shut, and I think I can hear the laughter of some of the men. Peeta suddenly becomes somber and looks at me.

"We don't have much time Katniss," he says in a whispered voice. "Beetee is dead. He was killed in an electrical accident. Haymitch thinks it was Coin."

"Beetee?" I ask in shock. "He did so much to help the rebellion! Why would Coin kill him?"

"Apparently the death match that Snow arranged between you and I was not meant to be public," whispers Peeta. "But Beetee hacked in and broadcast it to all of Panem. The soldiers that jumped in and rescued us weren't just doing a favor for Haymitch or following orders from Coin… they were moved by our performance…"

"Peeta…" I whisper. He covers my mouth.

"Beetee knew what he was doing, and he knew what would happen," says Peeta. "He accidently hacked into some of Coin's files… she's planning on having another hunger games…"

"What!?" I gasp.

"It's supposed to reduce the loss of life while allowing the districts to have a sense of justice," says Peeta. "But the real problem is that if you don't do exactly as she wants as the Mockingjay, she has plans to put Prim in _as a tribute_."

I clench my fists in anger. Coin was just as bad as Snow. I remembered Snow's words to me from behind his force field. _I thought we agreed not to lie to each other._

He had been honest. Everything he said about Coin was true.

"Hurry," says Peeta. "Get the rose… we need to get to Haymitch… We need to come up with a plan…"

I realize that he is right. I am not done pretending to be content. I am not done pretending that everything is ok to placate the President in power. I rush up and grab the rose. Its scent still lingers, the perfume masking the cruelty that had motivated this gift.

I rush back down. Peeta stands with a worried expression on his face. I realize that he has been trying as best he could to protect me and my family. I owe him yet again… No, that's not right… It is more like we are partners… It is like when Gale and I had started cooperating on our hunts in the woods.

"Peeta…" I start. I come up to him and speak softly. "Thank you for helping me… and… I wanted you to know… not everything was a performance this time…" I kiss his cheek, take his hand and we go out the door. His blush makes me smile.

Haymitch is passed out on his floor and snoring loudly when we come into his house. Peeta calls for some soldiers to help us, and we drag him back to the hovercraft.

"Hey sweetheart!" says Haymitch in slurred speech. He reeks of alcohol, but I find the scent more pleasant than the one being emitted by the rose I retrieved.

We eat some bread as we fly back to the Capitol. The execution is to be held in the arena there I learn. Plutarch has already arranged for Octavia, Venia, and Flavius to help prep me for the final spectacle, which I discover is scheduled for tomorrow.

After a lengthy flight, we arrive in the Capitol. This is the first time I have seen it from above. To my surprise, most of the buildings still appear to be intact. Only a few have been reduced to heaps of rubble. Finally we land where we are greeted by Effie Trinket. She has an exhausted look on her face.

"Hello Katniss," she says softly.

"Hello Effie," I reply as I give her a short embrace.

"Please follow me," she says.

I am walking through passageways until I come to a changing room. Inside, my prep team greets me. They are assigned to bring me to beauty base zero. They shave the hair off of my body because they know it is less painful for me. In fact the entire mood is significantly different from the first time I visited with Octavia, Venia, and Flavius, when they had seemed so involved in popular trends in the Capitol and so out of touch with the fact that children were being sent to their deaths in the hunger games. For the Quarter Quell, they were so overcome with pity for me that they could hardly prepare me. Now, they are neither bubbly nor depressed. They seem genuinely happy to help me.

After completing the initial prep, I am dressed in a simple gown and brought into a room where Effie, Peeta, and a much cleaner Haymitch are waiting. We eat a less extravagant meal than we had enjoyed before the hunger games, but it is still quite good. As a treat, I am given a can of lamb stew with dried plumbs. Effie is also less flamboyant, but she is thrilled that the occasion for our meeting is not to send me into the hunger games again. Haymitch, Peeta, and I keep mostly quiet as we eat. Finally the meal ends, and Effie leaves, promising to meet us bright and early tomorrow morning for the ceremony.

Haymitch opens a closet and pulls out some large coats.

"Let's get a bit of air…" he says. "I need some without alcohol…" Peeta and I laugh pleasantly, even though we both know that we are looking for privacy to lay out the rest of our plan.

After putting on the coats, we step out into the night air. The guards outside which are from district 13 refuse to let us go at first, but then they recognize Peeta and I. They shake our hands enthusiastically, and ask our forgiveness for impeding our way. We smile and thank them for their service to the rebellion, and then walk into the cold night air.

We walk some distance through various winding passages until we come to a ruined building. We sneak inside quickly to avoid attention, knowing we were most likely followed.

"Did Peeta tell you about Beetee?" asks Haymitch quickly. I nod in response. "Did he tell you about the arrow?"

"Only the official details," says Peeta.

"Ok, let's start there sweetheart," says Haymitch. "Beetee found information that outlined Coin's plans for her new hunger games. That led him to dig up more information that showed her secret deal with Snow."

"Yes, Peeta told me that," I say.

"Well he embedded that information in some kind of computer chip or memory chip I think he called it," says Haymitch. "And then he put that in your arrow…"

"What!?" I say.

"We need to come up with a reason to have the arrow examined after the execution," says Haymitch.

"Since they spent all that time and effort getting the names onto the arrow, won't they save it and put it in a case?" I ask.

"Probably," replies Haymitch. "But it will probably be in the President's office where no one can get the evidence. After the execution, she probably has "accidents" like what happened to Beetee arranged for each one of us. Unless it is done right after Snow is killed, she will get away with everything…"

Suddenly we hear our names outside. The voices belong to the guards that let us by. They were probably ordered to bring us back to keep us safe from potential threats.

"I'll figure something out," I say. "But we can't stir up suspicion before the ceremony. Let me know if you have any bright ideas."

Haymitch and Peeta do not like how quickly I am wanting to get back to our rooms. They would like it even less if they knew what my plan was. I know exactly what to do to get attention on the arrow.

I take Peeta's hand and rush out of the building. Haymitch follows. I call out to the soldiers and tell them we're glad they followed us because it felt like we were being followed. They enthusiastically escort us back to our rooms. Haymitch tells us that he will see us in the morning and leaves us.

Peeta and I cuddle together like we did on the victory train. I quickly go to sleep.

The next morning, Effie is knocking at the door. She sees Peeta with me and apologizes. Peeta apologizes to her for interrupting her schedule, kisses me, and then leaves. As he turns to face me, there is a look of worry in his eyes. I smile to reassure him.

"Your prep team has your Mockingjay outfit," says Effie. "I'm sure you will look stunning!"

Octavia, Venia, and Flavius quickly go to work fitting me with the dark armor, and fix the Mockingjay pin over my heart. The makeup takes a bit of time, but at last they are satisfied with their work. They give me my custom bow, and the special memorial arrow that Beetee customized to reveal the truth about Coin. I feel the shoulder of my armor and detect that the nightlock pill is still there. It gives me comfort, since I do not know exactly how everything will play out.

"Thank you!" I say to my prep team. "For everything…" They embrace me and I walk with Effie into the arena.

There are thousands of people watching and cheering. Confetti falls from the sky as I walk to a platform in the middle where Peeta waits for me. There is a platform across the way with a large metal pole to which President Snow is chained. I see the rose I retrieved from my home is pinned to his clothing over his heart just as I requested. He looks sickly, and I can see blood seeping out of his puffy lips. He opens his tired eyes which now seem a bit less snake like as I step up on my platform next to Peeta. He kisses me, and the crowd roars their support. He was always so good with crowds.

I look around the stadium. There is a small podium where President Coin is seated along with several guards and high ranking officials. Haymitch is seated with them, and he looks surprisingly sober. At last President Coin steps up to her podium and addresses the crowd. Hearing her voice brings to mind all her secret plans: the hunger games, her use of Prim, her compliance in sending Peeta and I into Snow's greenhouse…

I stare at Snow to make it appear my anger is directed at him. To a large degree it is. The man is despicable. The long list of crimes that President Coin reads confirms this. The crowd seems to murmur with anger as his secret perversions are announced. At last Coin concludes the list of crimes.

"Coriolanus Snow," she says loudly. "For all these crimes, you have been sentenced to die. Because of the wrongs she has endured at your hands, Katniss Everdeen will have the privilege of carrying out this sentence immediately! Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the Mockingjay, with the arrow that will end the war!"

The crowd goes silent. Everyone watches as I slowly pull the string back on my bow. The arrow points straight for the flower on Snow's heart. I take a deep breath. At the last moment, I swing my body toward Coin and release the arrow, which strikes her in the heart.


	7. Chapter 29

**29**

President Coin falls to the ground. I can tell from where I am that she is dead already. The audience is stunned silent for several moments. Suddenly Snow begins laughing and choking as blood sprays from his puffy, smiling lips.

I reach toward my shoulder to pull out the nightlock pill. Peeta slaps it out of my hand and crushes it with his foot.

"I won't let you kill yourself!" he says. In a moment I am surrounded by guards. I struggle to free myself, but they hold me tightly and drag me out of the stadium.

At length I am thrown into a white padded room, and the door is locked behind me. I sit down calmly. At this point, the deed is done. I expect that it will not be long before I am dragged back to the podium where I had seen Snow, and that it will be me chained to it waiting for an arrow or a bullet to pierce my heart. Even if Haymitch or Peeta convince someone to examine the arrow that killed Coin, I am confident that it will not be until after I have been killed. There are far too many loyal people from district 13 who will want me dead.

I think of Peeta. He was so quick to slap the pill away, but to what end? I cannot be saved now. I am only glad that he has a chance to be free. This really is the way the Quarter Quell was supposed to end. I was supposed to take the fall for Peeta. And I was able to save Prim again. I did not volunteer as a tribute for her to return to the games later. I did not overthrow one tyrant only to replace him with another.

I close my eyes. I feel exhausted. I also feel relieved. In more way than one, I had fired the arrow to end the war. My part in this is done. The future of Panem really is in the hands of the people now, not some corrupt despot.

I lie down in my padded cell. For the first time in a long time, I am able to on my own get some restful sleep.

Several hours must pass, because when I wake, a guard is bringing me an evening meal. He drops off the tray and slams the door shut. The tray contains a crust of bread and tall cup of water. I eat and drink all of it, and then lie down again.

I suddenly feel lonely. I wish that I could see Prim's smile and bouncing blonde hair again. More than this, I wish that Peeta were here. I then think how much better that he is not here, and that he is free. I wonder if he might be getting into trouble trying to defend me. I hope not.

To my surprise, several days pass with no interaction or news other than the arrival of my daily meal. I start to speculate what might be delaying my death. I worry that perhaps I have been sentenced to stay in this padded room for the rest of my life, and I suddenly long for that purple nightlock pill.

The room feels as if it is getting smaller as days pass. I explore every surface of the room searching for something that might let me escape this prison. After a thorough search, I find that my prison is quite effective. It does not seem that there is anything that can help me leave this room.

Finally one day, the door swings open and a guard drags me out. I do not resist because the feeling of being out of the room is so welcome. At length I am brought to a hovercraft. This must be it. They must be flying me to the arena where I will be executed. I lower my head and walk steadily.

The guards at the hovercraft are far less abusive as they escort me in where I find Plutarch. He greets me with a wide smile.

"You must have many questions!" he says excitedly. I am surprised by his enthusiasm. "You were put on trial almost immediately after you killed Coin. Some of the representatives from district 13 wanted to have you killed immediately, but Haymitch and Peeta were very persuasive in telling them it was important to find out _why_ you killed her."

"What happened to Snow?" I ask.

"Oh yes!" says Plutarch. "I almost forgot! Snow started mumbling something about a rose being lovely and having thorns…" My eyes grow wide as I recall the phrase that Snow used to activate some hijacked memories inside Peeta. Had he gone mad?

"That's one of the reasons that Peeta was so persuasive," continues Plutarch. "He seemed to shake for a moment as if he was really angry, then he took a knife and rushed over to Snow, stabbing him in the heart. He shouted 'that's for the Mockingjay!' Anyway, it created a lot of doubt as to whether you were yourself when you had shot Coin. People thought you might have been poisoned or drugged by Snow in the greenhouse. It made people want to figure out what actually happened."

"But no one came to talk to me…" I say.

"True," says Plutarch. "But that's because Haymitch insisted that we check the arrow. You must be able to imagine how surprised everyone was when Coins plans for another hunger games with Prim and her agreement with Snow to turn you and Peeta over to him in exchange for his surrender were broadcast. Beetee did a good job assembling everything! So anyway, we immediately held an emergency election. It took a few days to get everything collected and counted, but Paylor was elected the new President. Her first order was to free the hero that saved us from not one but two tyrants! To free you!"

I sit in stunned silence for several moments.

"Where is Peeta?" I ask.

"Waiting for you in district 12," replies Plutarch.

Plutarch talks about how different everything will be now that people are free. He talks about how the citizens of the Capitol are having difficulty adjusting, but that many of them are moving to districts to help with agriculture and fishing so that they can be close to food sources. He talks about how much more he liked me firing the arrow that hit Coin than he had the one that had skewered the apple in the pig's mouth in the hunger games. He talks about how happy he is that Peeta seems to have recovered, and how happy he is for me. I smile at his enthusiasm.

At last we reach district 12. Peeta is waiting for me just as Plutarch promised. I run up to him and hug him. Tears pour out my eyes, and in spite of myself, I sob. He holds me closely. There is no hesitation or unsteadiness in him. It feels like the day when we came out in Cinna's fiery costumes in the chariot representing district 12, when I leaned on him so that I would not fall.

"Katniss…" he says. His voice is filled with concern. I breathe deeply to control my emotions and wipe my eyes.

"I'm sorry Peeta…" I say.

"For what?" he asks with a smile. I kiss him.

"I thought I would never see you again…" I say finally.

"I'm not going anywhere," says Peeta.

I know that Plutarch and the guards are still watching me, but it is different. They are not watching us on behalf of a President trying to maintain face and power, they are watching because they like happy endings.

I take a deep breath. Everything will be different now. It is not the first time that I have been comforted being with Peeta, but it is the first time I have felt free. What an odd sensation. There are no Peacekeepers patrolling the area. There is no pressure to hide my emotions or to whisper hushed secrets. There is no need to secretly sell squirrels, strawberries, and rabbits. We had beaten the hunger games. The light coming through my tear-filled eyes gives a shine to everything that suddenly gives me pause.

"Real or not real?" I ask Peeta. He laughs and then kisses me.

"Real!" he says.


	8. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Peeta and I eventually had an official marriage ceremony. It was broadcast throughout Panem thanks to Plutarch. Generous gifts came from people all over the country in spite of the difficulties in managing resources and industry. We used them to build new homes is district 12 and encouraged those displaced by the war to come.

Eventually, the industry districts produced machines to mine coal in district 12. In addition to coal, other metals and resources were discovered, and soon district 12 became an important part of the recovery.

I sometimes still had nightmares of the horrors and the pain I had seen in the hunger games, or in the battles. Peeta always held me closely and helped me work through the pain.

There were other times when Peeta would suddenly seize up under the influence of a tracker jacker memory or hallucination, but after a few minutes he would bring himself out of it. He occasionally still asked what was real, and I helped him through it.

In spite of the improvements we saw, I was still hesitant when Peeta suggested that we have children. Eventually though, we had two children: a boy and a girl.

They would eventually learn in school that there was a hunger games, and that their parents were in them, but we never spoke of it.

Haymitch lived next door for many years. He never got sober, but he did develop a soft spot for avoxes. He employed several of them to help maintain his house, and when he died, he left his fortune to them.

President Paylor served for several terms before retiring. She was such a different President than Snow or Coin had been, that many people were afraid that things might return to the way they had been. The president that replaced her was a young man from district 11 that reminded me of Rue. He was small but he made a point to be helpful to everyone, and things continued to improve as far as we saw.

It was the dawn of a new age. Peeta and I wondered if maybe this time, peace would finally stick. I remembered my conversation with Snow about how Panem was so fragile. Perhaps in this he was right. People can forget so easily what is most important. The wars and the bloodshed… the bread and circuses… the policies that forced people to sacrifice their children as tributes… as big and awful as these things were, in the end they were elaborate distractions from what really mattered: friendship, loyalty, courage, and love. Perhaps this time, freedom would not fade away… perhaps this was the time it would stick.


End file.
